I struggle so much at times. A blog is so much an intimate sharing of emotion. I'm not the most public person. I'm known to bury my emotions and project a stoicism, after all, I am a man with all the foibles.
I’m a little taken a back by my comments yesterday. But nevertheless, in a sense it reflects the profound roller coaster ride of an existence it is to do this work. I guess part of what I want to show that such of vulnerability you also may not be chary to show.
This brings me to two stories.
Though we are supposed not to take on any more clients in Gulfport, the nature of how we take on clients complicates a managerial dictate as that. I can only estimate using humanly powers how long it will take to get jobs done, and how much it may cost over what was allocated by a grantor. To generate a list of the clients we will complete by the time of our closing is problematic, even if perceived only by me. At the same time we are spinning down, the most solid, trustworthy granting agency, American Red Cross, continues to bring me cases.
I took on another yesterday in spite of our plan to take on no others. I think we may get it mostly done. The house holds four generations, from grandmother to daughter to grand daughter to, I think, great grand daughter. And the Grandma isn’t much older, if not younger, that me, so that tells you something about the”socio-economic situation.”
The house is three blocks off US49. It has nice vinyl siding, some post-Katrina work was done; but one walks in and sees holes in the drywall, a gas line with no heater in the hallway, a grand, or great granddaughter asleep on a recliner. One walks deeper into the small home.
I go into the kitchen, the range hood had fallen off, but so what, there wasn’t any fan motor in it.
I look in the so-called HVAC closet, there is nothing but a blanket nailed across it, with smoke-stained walls suggesting a fire. When the blanket is moved, hoards of roaches run for cover.
I go into the bathroom and see the roaches edging out from behind the mirror over the sink.
I go into the laundry room, the gas water heater looks decrepit. The door to the outside has no lock, she has the washing machine shoved up against it to keep out unwanted folks.
I go into the bedrooms and note bi-fold doors sloppily hung by some previous contractor.
I go outside and walk around to look at the windows. I have to get past an old brown dog on a chain. He shows all the higher level (psychological) desire for a nice pet on the head and scratching his ear but he is so wary and fearful he only shows momentary positive response to my mild and gentle talk before he jumps down from the top of his dog house and responding at the most basic, animal level, really barks hard at me as he tugs on the chain to put distance between us.
I wish I had an twenty or thirty minutes with that dog, it really hurts me to see a dog respond so. It is a sign of emotional neglect when the dog was a puppy. He doesn't deserve it. None of us do.
I make it back to the front porch and notice the Ground Fault Interrupt(GFI) receptacle has signs of scorching. The grandmother shows me all the receptacles in the house that do not work. The electrical system is a hazard.
This is the land of plenty. How have we let this happen?
* * *
Today I went to Pearlington to check on our work plan for next week. The Pittsburghers are here! Yea!! It is so great to see old friends. This is their fifth trip. (I really enjoyed my time in Pittsburgh. My two exceptional sons were born there.)
We had lunch at the Baptist Church today. Rev. Rawls and his wife (99% of the effort) have arranged lunch for visiting volunteers since a few weeks after Katrina, that means 5 lunches per week for four and one-half years, about 1620 meals, more or less as many as a hundred people at a time. We’ve helped, both with the cost and folks to help prepare, but Mrs. Rawls has born most of the burden.
We talked today after lunch about friends coming and going. We talked about how the bonds made over this lunch (as we also worked to rebuild his church building) have formed, about the fact that as people leave each week, we may not see them again before we cross over to the other side, but then hopefully it will be a joyous time!
Perhaps because my last blog entry was so much on my mind, I was moved to comment after today's lunch. I remarked that while Rev. Rawls was so thankful for our help, that he had to know that a little piece of his congregation and the people of Pearlington went back home with each group of volunteers. I mentioned that he should take heart in the fact that that piece was perhaps a glowing ember that burned bright and flared with the zeal of the volunteers who brought their stories back to their congregations. That ember has ignited the heart of the remnant of our ‘frozen chosen,” perhaps being the fire that burns hotly to warm the heart of a new church that emerges and clings to Christ’s teachings.
Amen
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